


To gain a family, to lose another

by Capostrophe



Series: At The End of the Day [4]
Category: Bread (TV)
Genre: Affairs, Bankrupcy, Boswell unity, Custody of children, Divorce, F/M, Family law courts, Family unity, Marriage breakdown, Prequel, Step-parents, visitation rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capostrophe/pseuds/Capostrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Joey has to choose once and for all between Roxy Hartwell and his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To gain a family, to lose another

**Author's Note:**

> A Joey-flavoured prequel to 'At the End of the Day', though it can stand alone. Sort of companion to Martina's prequel. I may end up putting them together as a collection but I'm not sure.  
> Set about a year after the show finishes. I've tried to stay in keeping with as much of the canon as I possibly can, but some parts of the later series I can't recall all that clearly. Also Joey still looks, in my head, like original Joey. Just does.  
> I can't remember if Roxy's son had a name in the show, so I've called him Oscar for now. He looks like an Oscar to me, anyhow. If it turns out he had an actual name in canon I'll go back and change it.

 

**1992**

The organic business has gone bust. Well, Joey's side of it has. Surprisingly, Freddie's been the more successful one, has sold his half, (leaving Joey to struggle on opposite a complete stranger) has even gotten enough to get himself a new flat. Which means Lilo Lil's living in said flat with him. Which means Joey's getting phone calls from Nellie every half hour.

Which means Roxy is not happy.

And Roxy not being happy coupled with the fact that Joey now has very little money equals total catastrophe.

Joey's trying to juggle his finances, his family, a child who needs attention and a wife who's so displeased with him these days that he can do no right.

It's no way to live, this.

Joey thinks back to the days when it was all simple and fun, and everything he did was for a laugh. Even though 1983 should be tainted by the memory of his dad walking out in favour of Lilo Lil, it's always quite a happy time in his mind.

No Roxy, and of course he was missing her, but it was a time for clever, sneaky little night-time jobs, for coming into his own, a time of new and exciting adventures, of leather and a shiny '50s Jag to call his own.

And a time for family- Mam and Grandad, Jack and Adrian, Aveline and Billy and him. Pots and Mongy and dinnertime prayers and Edgar and sibling squabbles.

Happy days they were.

Happy, triumphant days.

And of course there was the DHSS. Joey misses the mental jousting. He misses walking in with a proud swagger, head held high, sitting opposite Martina the DHSS lady and having a good old banter. Of all the ways he used to get money, including the more fabulously, thrillingly risky of his jobs, that was by far the most fun.

He thinks about Martina often. Not for any particular reason, mind, but she was always someone he admired, who he thought deserved better than what she had. And a worthy opponent, too. She was one of the few who could match wits with him.

Sometimes he wonders if she's still there, wonders what she would do if he walked back in there one day with a cry of _'greetings!'_ He wonders if she and Shifty have made a good go of it, or if his cousin's long since run off with someone else. The family don't see Shifty, haven't made contact with him since he swindled them, so Joey can't ask. Not that he gets much chance to ask, because if he so much as visits for an hour, Roxy flies into a rage.

She's been doing that a lot, lately. Flying into a rage.

And Roxy-rages aren't the same as normal-people rages. Because, for one thing, they're not actual rages. She stews quietly, takes it out on him in sharp, quiet, nasty little ways.

She doesn't understand- she just doesn't understand. His family _needs_ him, they can't do without him. And it isn't as if he's not still there for her, still there for her son. He's always looking out for the two of them, spending time with them, chatting to her, playing with little Oscar, acting the parent when Roxy can't be bothered- which is frequently. He's been everything a husband and father should be. And yet she still goes off at him when he runs out for an hour or two to sort out one of his mother's crises. She just doesn't understand- he's a Boswell. It's in his blood. It's not just something he can walk away from without a thought. Family is everything to him- all of it, not just his wife and the child that's practically his. He still loves the others, and he can't just stop.

He doesn't know what to do about the situation, so he keeps on trying to act as if nothing's wrong. And that just makes it worse.

* * *

'Joey, oh, Joey, he hasn't been round in a week- and when I rang up I could hear a great, booming, trollopy Irish laugh in the background! _She's_ living with him! She's living in his flat again! The TART! You'd think he'd be getting too old for all that rampant misbehaving, wouldn't you? But _no_ , not a bit of it…oh, Joey…'

Joey makes a sympathetic noise into the phone.

'Well, if he turns up tonight, 'just passing' or whatever excuse he chooses to use this time, I'll tell him, Joey, I'll tell him he's not to walk through my door again! Making an example of himself like that- letting me and _our children_ be privy to that sort of _sordid adultery!_ '

If anything, Nellie's famous fits of fury have worsened over the years. Joey can almost envision himself reaching from his place one down from the head of the Boswell table, to touch his mother's arm, rub her shoulders, calm her down. His offering of comfort over the phone isn't the same, but it's all he can do.

It would take him a long time to drive out there, and when he got back, Roxy would be ready with her mental rolling pin, preparing to beat him down.

'Just simmer down, Mam, okay? Maybe she _is_ there,' he won't use Lilo Lil's name- he doesn't want his head bitten off, even if it is just down the line, 'but you've got to accept that Dad- is Dad. Sometimes he can't help what he does…'

'Can't help it my foot! He knows what he's doing, Joey, he's…'

And then there's an unearthly beeping sound, a dial tone- they've been cut off.

Joey taps the receiver against his hand, puts it back to his ear but no, there's nothing.

'Ahem.'

Joey turns and there stands Roxy, finger on the disconnect button.

He opens his mouth to say something.

'Not your Mam _again_ , Joey,' she says. 'I can't _stand_ it. Every day, Mam this, Mam that, phone up Mam or the whole world'll collapse.'

'She needed me,' Joey protests, 'she was upset!'

'She _always_ needs you. What about what _I_ need? D'you think it's easy bein' married to Oedipus in a leather jacket?'

Suddenly Joey feels tired and heavy, and very, _very_ fed up with all of this.

'Don't start, Roxy, just _don't_. You know my family-'

' _I'm_ your family, Joey. Me and Oscar.'

'I know that, Roxy, I know that. But…'

'But nothin', Joey. At some point you have to start puttin' me first.'

She marches off towards the door, flinging it open.

'And when have you ever put _me_ first?' Joey says.

Roxy hesitates in the doorway, her back to him.

'The only time I ever see you these days is when you're tellin' me not to talk to me family. Fair do, Roxy, practise what you preach!'

A little harsh, perhaps, but it's true. Every word.

She turns her head slowly. 'Don't be so passive-aggressive, Joey.' Her eyes lock with his for a moment and then she disappears round the corner.

 _Me being passive-aggressive?_ Joey wants to shout. _Me? Me?!_ Passive-aggressive seems to be the only language Roxy communicates in. He laughs bitterly.

'Joey?'

He looks down, and Oscar's peering round the door, eyes wide.

'What's the matter, son?'

'Are you and Mammy having another fight?'

Joey sighs, reaches out to him. 'It's okay, son. It'll all be okay. We just have a couple of issues, that's all. Why don't you go on back to bed, okay?'

Oscar's only seven, but he can tell something's not right between them anymore. It hasn't been for a while now. Joey's going bankrupt has put enough of a strain on their marriage, without Roxy taking irrational offense at the amount of time he spends talking to his mother. They're heading for a catastrophe as it is.

And then, just to throw another spanner in the works, there's the other thing.

There's the fact that Roxy's seeing someone else.

* * *

Joey can't remember when it started, and he can't remember when he started noticing. But it's happening right under his very nose.

It begins with the odd unexplained bunch of flowers, the odd little gift. He gets into bed one night and she's eating chocolates out of a box. And she seems totally unashamed, seems to _want_ him to wonder what's going on.

He tries to ignore the signs for as long as he can- but it gets to the point, after she comes home wearing a man's jacket, where he just can't deny it anymore.

Roxy's got another man.

Whether she actually loves him or whether it's just to get back at him he isn't sure, but either way is bad enough.

'Who is he?' he asks one evening, out of the blue. They're watching television, Oscar's been put to bed, and Joey just can't take the not knowing for certain anymore.

'His name's Alberto.' She doesn't even try to deny it. She just keeps watching the telly as if this is the most ordinary of casual conversations to be having. 'He's an accountant up in London- he's down here on business.'

'Oh,' says Joey. He doesn't know what else to say. It hasn't sunk in yet. He seems to be floating between feeling and nothingness.

'How long?' his voice is flat, hollow.

'About four months now.'

Joey swallows. Longer than he thought, then. And then, like the delayed reaction it is, the anger and fear and shock and hurt catch up with him, knock the wind out of him. Of course, he knew it was happening all along- but to have it confirmed, well, that's something else. It's like the comfy blanket of denial he's been hiding under has been pulled off him.

He turns to her, feeling himself fall to pieces, and she looks back, totally unmoved, uncaring, even. It doesn't even seem to _bother_ her that she's crushing him.

'Why?!' he bursts out.

'Because I was _hurt_ , Joey, that's why! All the time, day in, day out, you're fretting and worrying and obsessin' over your Mam, and what about me? I was _hurt,_ Joey, and the only way to make you see that was to hurt you!'

Joey grits his teeth. 'I can't believe you would do this- I responded to a _cry for help_ from my family and you went and did this. They _needed_ me, Roxy. I may be married to you, I may love you- but I _still love them_ , and nothin's gonna change that. For you to go and do this…it's disgustin'. It's deliberately cruel.'

'Don't _I_ need you, Joey?' There's something horrible, something mocking in the way she says this. She's not saying _I need you_ , such is obvious from the purposeful order of her words, she's questioning his loyalty to all the people in his life, testing which one he loves most. And that's not fair.

'Well, apparently not,' he snaps. 'You've got your fancy man.'

Roxy looks for a moment like she might strike him- but she won't, and she doesn't. It's not her style. She likes to wound emotionally, does Roxy.

'Well, if that's the way you're gonna behave about this, maybe you should leave.'

Joey's mouth drops open.

'Go on,' Roxy says, gesturing to the door. 'Get out.'

Joey can't believe this. He just can't believe it. She's the one who's been unfaithful to him, and yet it's _him_ who's been reproved for his 'behaviour', _him_ who's being thrown out.

He begins to protest this. 'Roxy…'

'Go on. I don't wanna see you tonight.'

'Roxy, don't…' a sudden twang of remorse shakes him. Perhaps this _is_ his fault, maybe she's right, he's neglected her, _driven_ her to having this affair.

'It's no use sayin' you're sorry _now_ , Joey. It's too late. The damage is done. Go.'

So Joey goes, teeth chattering from stress and confusion and anger and pain, and several other emotions he's yet to put his finger on.

It's all his fault, one side of his brain laments over and over. It's all, all his fault. The other half cackles harshly at the irony. Joey's been trying to be a good son, a good brother, be there for the people who have always been there for him all his life- perfectly understandable to any normal wife. Roxy's the one who's been tarting around behind his back. And yet he's the one who feels guilty about all this.

He steps outside. It's pouring, and his hair immediately gets drenched. The water cascades over the leather he's wearing in rivets, every part of his shirt that's showing gets soaked in a matter of seconds. He's got no change of clothes with him, no plan of where to go. The family he was raised with are miles away, the one he's chosen is barred to him, Roxy and Oscar locked inside the house, Joey locked out.

He begins to laugh bitterly, a hysterical choking sort of sound that gets louder and louder as hysterics grab him, and he bends over the bonnet of his Jag, howling with them like a madman. Slowly the laughs make way for tears and gulps, and then he's sobbing, sobbing unashamedly like a child, like a girl, like Nellie after one of her fits.

The rain continues to assault him and Joey just laughs and cries and laughs, not caring who sees him, because at some point, his life's taken an unwanted turn and now it's all falling apart.

* * *

He does eventually calm down, does get his senses together enough to think of driving to a hotel for the night, but by the time he's parked outside the front, he's realised there's no point- there's no way he's going to get any sleep tonight.

He stays in his Jag instead, lying across the backseat and counting all the rain drops on the car window, waiting until it's light enough to drive and then switching the engine back on. He won't go home, not yet- he wants to see someone, _anyone_ , talk this over.

He doesn't know where he's driving, but somehow the Jag does, or perhaps he's being guided, and he ends up parking outside the block of flats that now houses Freddie Boswell.

Of all the people to go to, he doesn't know why it'd be his Dad. You can't ask for advice about your cheating spouse from another cheating spouse, can you? That's just ridiculous.

Still he goes, though. Maybe it's the fact that Roxy had an affair because he was always going to his Mam, so deep down he doesn't want to give her more provocation. Maybe it's just that Freddie was closer.

He walks up the stairs to the fourth floor, rings the doorbell and waits patiently for someone to attend to him.

There's a clacking sound from within, as if someone's galumphing toward the door, putting heavy weight on a tiny pair of shoes, and then Lilo Lil appears in the doorway.

Well, that's just perfect, isn't it?

'Er, is me Dad home?'

'There's one o' yawr lads 'ere to see ye, Freddie Boswell!' She shouts, her voice rough and scratchy and coarse, and then she galumphs off back to whence she came, and Freddie's there, hair sticking up all over the place as usual, corners of his moustache turned down as he frowns.

'None of you ever come and see me unless something's wrong.'

'Roxy's havin' an affair,' Joey blurts out.

Freddie hums, nods. 'I've got a drop o' whiskey in the kitchen,' he says eventually. 'You'd better come in.'

* * *

'What d'you think I should do?' Joey's relayed the story with no small amount of misery, and his belly burns from the Scotch Freddie's poured out for him and insisted he consume.

He isn't expecting the response he gets.

'I'd get a divorce if I were you.'

He's glad he doesn't have drink in his mouth now, or he'd have surely spat it out. ' _What?!'_

That's the last thing he thinks Freddie would say. He's been expecting all sorts of things- excuses on Roxy's part, that sometimes people can't help it, need their freedom, et cetera et cetera. But not that- not from _him_ , of all people!

'You can scarcely talk, can you!' he stutters, 'I mean, Mam 'asn't divorced you, 'as she?'

'Look,' Freddie says, pronouncing the 'oo' sound like 'moon', 'this isn't about me and your mother. Every case is different. This is about you.'

Joey still doesn't follow. 'But why would you…'

'Look,' says Freddie again, lowering his voice, 'I admit I might've done wrong, walkin' out with Lilo Lil. Sometimes I miss bein' at home, with a warm plate o' scouse in front o' me and Nellie Boswell shouting about me little carts. But I love your mother, and she knows that- well, I think she knows that. That's why she hasn't divorced me. But then Lil, she's…a sort of temptation. I can't stay away from her, know what I mean?'

Joey just stares, taking it all in.

'I think you do know what I mean,' Freddie continues, lowering his voice even more, obviously a precaution so Lilo Lil can't hear. 'It's the same for you with Roxy. Even when she'd left yer, when she was married to someone else, you couldn't help it. You kept goin' back to her. Roxy is to you what Lil is to me.'

Joey can't answer, because that's just…so… _profound_ , and also totally unexpected. But true, in a sense, he supposes.

'And that sort o' relationship isn't good for you, son. I can handle it, because dear little Thunderknickers is good to me. She's warm and friendly, and good for when I need a break from your mother. Roxy isn't good to you- she never was. She keeps hurtin' you. And if you keep goin' back, she's gonna keep on hurtin' you, keep on havin' affairs. For the rest of your life.'

These last words are said with emphasis, and Joey mulls them over.

'Is that really what you want?'

He ponders it. He ponders everything that's happened over the last year or so, from the beginning of their tempestuous marriage up til now. It had seemed so perfect, so sweet, so blissful at the beginning, and he'd thought it was going to be a dream come true. Yes, Joey had had a dream about a quiet family life with Roxy, and it seemed he was going to have it.

But he'd never imagined his other family, his brothers and sister and Mam and Dad and Grandad, would be so cruelly cut out of it by his wife. And she'd been trying to do that from the moment they went house-hunting, picking a place so far on the outskirts of town it was practically into the next one, far away from the crises of the others. That isn't a dream- it's a _nightmare_. Joey wants a life of his own, yes, but he still wants his family to be _in_ it without having to feel he's doing the wrong thing.

Maybe his Dad's right. Maybe it _would_ be better to cut his losses, write off his marriage to Roxy as a hopeless case and start afresh. He could go home. He could help his family. Things could go back to the way they were.

But he still loves her- there's never been anyone else, and he's so used to the idea of loving her, of wanting her, that the idea of throwing her away with both hands frightens him. As does the idea of losing Oscar.

He knows Oscar isn't his, that he was the product, most likely, of an affair Roxy had while claiming to be with him, but during the time his relationship with Roxy has blossomed he's grown to love the rugrat. Joey supposes you can't watch someone you know grow from a quiet toddler to a mischievous and lovable seven-year-old without beginning to feel _something_ \- especially as during this year, this year they've been married, he's been the one around for most of Oscar's dramas and joys. The boy really has become his son, and he his father. Joey has, in a very real way, gotten a family of his own with the two of them. And to lose that would be just terrible.

But then again, he knows for a fact that staying together for the sake of the children is something you're most definitely not supposed to do. That's what everyone says, and if he needs proof, all he has to do is look at Billy and Julie. It took them two years to get their divorce, perhaps more, he can't remember, and all because Billy wanted to keep Francesca close. Well, partly because of that, anyway. Another part had to do with the fact that the idiots couldn't stay away from each other, _lusted_ after one another something awful, even while hating each other's guts.

And when it comes to the affair, his Dad is spot on, Joey realises with a sickening lurch. Roxy is never going to change. She's been like this for years- running off, getting married behind his back, then carrying on with him while she knows he has a husband, getting herself pregnant by someone she doesn't even _remember_ now, and now this Alberto, this bastard (for although Joey's never met him, nay, doesn't even know what he looks like or who he is, he's certain he _is_ a bastard) is just part of a continuing, consistent pattern. Roxy is a cheater. Always has been, always will be. And if he stays, he'll have to accept that it's for life.

And Joey, as hopelessly in love with his wife as he is, just can't do that.

'I'll think about it,' he says finally. Indecisive, but he can't come right out and say he'll do it- not yet. He doesn't know if he'll have the strength of mind to actually go through with it- not when Roxy holds his heart and his mind, one in each hand, and the rest of him on a leash between her teeth. But he _will_ think about it.

* * *

The house seems familiar to him the way it should, and he feels as if he's coming home like always. And at the same time, it doesn't. At the same time, it feels like an alien place, a place he's no longer welcome to come to and go from as he pleases. The front door- this same front door he's been opening and entering through for the best part of a year- seems forbidding, a warning barrier between him and whatever awaits him on the other side.

 _Come on, son_ , he tells himself. _Nothin' to be afraid of._

But he's shaking like a leaf. Deep down inside himself he's hoping he'll get in there and all won't be lost after all. Roxy'll be waiting with an apology and a promise never to do that to him again, and he'll kiss her and hug Oscar and things will go back to the way they should have been.

Even deeper down, though, he knows this isn't going to happen. It's beyond repair this time.

He pushes the door open.

'Joey!' Oscar's flung himself at Joey the instant he's put one foot in the vestibule, and Joey falters as he returns the cuddle. He loves this lad, loves him so much. A divorce would break his little heart. Oscar's been messed around his whole life, been the casualty of Roxy's disastrous marriage to Stan, then Roxy's disastrous life alone, then Roxy's disastrous marriage to Joey, always looking on, ignored while his mother made mess after mess. And Joey's tried to fix that, be the father Oscar never had.

 _You can still be Oscar's Dad_ , Joey thinks. _You can still have a role in his growing up. It's just not gonna be in the same house, that's all._

'Where's your mother?' he asks.

'She went over to Alberto's hotel,' Oscar tells him. All thoughts of changing his mind, of staying, vanish from Joey's head like a puff of smoke. She's not going to apologise. She's _still_ seeing him. Freddie was one hundred per cent right.

'Oscar, listen, son,' he sits down on the sofa, gestures for the boy to join him. 'I need to talk to you about somethin'.'

'Are you and Mammy gonna break up?' He's perceptive for his years. Joey nods, and the look on the child's face breaks his heart.

'I knew that,' says Oscar. 'That always happens when Mam gets a new boyfriend.' He's not crying- he's a brave little lad, but Joey knows he's upset. He puts his arms around him.

'Oscar, I'm not gonna lie to you. I think that'd be an insult- you're too old for all that. You're right, I can't… I can't stay with your mother anymore. A lot of things have 'appened- but listen, son,' he looks Oscar straight in the eyes, 'that doesn't mean I'll love you any less. You're still my son, and I'll still love you. Always. And even if I don't live with you anymore, well, it doesn't mean we won't see each other, does it? I'll come and visit you as much as I can, and you can come down to me- maybe stay some weekends, yeah?'

Oscar listens and nods. He's taking it well, but then it probably hasn't hit him yet. Not properly.

'You promise? You really, really promise?'

'Of course I do.' He draws an 'x' on his chest. 'Cross me heart. I'm a man o' me word.'

Oscar says nothing, and then abruptly grabs Joey in another hug.

They don't move until Joey hears the front door slam.

Roxy appears, lipstick smudged, clothes ruffled and a thunderous face on her when she sees the two of them there. Joey sets Oscar down with a few soft words about running along, and the kid doesn't need to be told twice. He knows exactly what's going to happen.

'What do you think you're doing, Joey?'

He doesn't look at her face. He knows if he does, he'll remember all the happy times they shared, and she'll have got him on a hook again. It's not hard for that to happen.

It's hard enough breaking it to Oscar, having to hurt him like this, without being lured back in by Roxy.

Joey has to go. And he can't let her stop him.

'I just came to fetch me belongings,' he informs her. 'Then I'm gonna go back to me Mam's-'

'Oh, your _Mam's_ , I should've known…'

'And then I'm gonna file for divorce.'

Well, that shuts her up.

'Div-divorce?'

He doesn't want to discuss this with her. Not just now.

'You brought it on yourself, Roxy.' He gets up, heads for the staircase without another word, without so much as a glance in her direction.

'Oh, play the victim, as always, Joey. Doesn't occur to you, does it, that this might've been _your_ fault- always putting your Mam first- if you'd just…'

He blocks her words out, doesn't falter in his stride. He keeps going.

'You're just doing this for attention, Joey!' he hears her call up the stairs after him. He ignores her. He packs. He catches Oscar on his way down and gives him a hug goodbye, promising he'll phone up as soon as he can. He takes his cases to the car. And he doesn't look back at Roxy as he gets into his Jag and drives off.

But he remembers how Oscar had looked at him as he'd been preparing to go, and his heart breaks into a thousand pieces.

* * *

Aveline and Oswald generously offer to let him stay for a few days, and Joey accepts reluctantly. Aveline's too gushy about the whole thing, and Oswald too perceptive, and Joey makes excuses about not wanting to trespass on their hospitality for long. Even so, he's very grateful, he says, if they'd put him up for one night, maybe two. He can't face going back to Kelsall Street, not yet, not straight away. He doesn't want to hear Mam saying she told him so, as she inevitably will.

But the first thing little Tracey Ursula says when she toddles into the room is 'where's Oscar? I want to play with him,' and Joey feels a surge of tears coming up, has to hastily invent a reason for the girl to leave him alone. Five minutes later Oswald's inquiring if he wants to talk, and Aveline's brought up a plate of slightly past their prime jammy dodgers, as if for some reason something edible will help him at a time like this and Joey decides he's leaving the instant dawn breaks tomorrow. At least in Kelsall Street there aren't any children to demand where Oscar is. There's Billy, and that's almost the same thing, but not quite.

What's going to happen about Oscar now? Joey can't bear the thought of being away from him, can't bear the thought of not seeing that adorable grin every morning as Oscar comes into the kitchen, miniature dressing-gown and hair tousled, jokingly begging Joey to give him a sip of his coffee and then proclaiming how disgusting he thinks it is when Joey finally relents. He'll still see him, of course. There's no way Roxy won't let him. Even _she's_ not that cruel.

* * *

'I told you so, Joey. Didn't I tell you so?'

These are the first words that escape Nellie's mouth when Joey turns up on her doorstep with his bags.

'That Roxy was never any good for you…I always knew it wouldn't last…I never liked her, _and_ she's a Proddy, Joey, it's no less than you can expect from someone like that…'

Her comments are like knives, but Joey endures them, because more than ever, at this moment, he feels lost and helpless and alone. He's got no money, he's just destroyed the life he built for himself, he's a lost child and he wants his mummy. In the midst of all Nellie's rambling, he throws his arms around her and holds on for all he's worth.

His Mam stops speaking and holds him, comforts him, and even though Joey's a grown man, has always been the tough one seeing everyone else through, and even though Billy's standing in the middle of the parlour, mouth hanging open as he watches the spectacle, Joey cries openly, lets himself be cradled, clutches Nellie with all the strength in his body.

Things revert almost instantly to some degree of normality. Joey's granted the use of Aveline's old room (now Billy's the only Boswell child still on the scene, he's become used to having a room all to himself, and refuses to share), he gets his old seat back at the table during meals, takes turns with Billy doing various chores and taking Grandad's tray.

Being at home helps dull the pain somewhat. Despite the fact he's sure they're what broke up his marriage, having his family around is like having a drop of prosaic on his tongue- just a drop, mind. Not enough to take away the worried thoughts of what's going to happen to him, but enough to let him forget for a few minutes at a time.

He volunteers for extra household work, does a few on-the-side jobs, helps Billy make his sandwiches in the mornings, immersing himself in as much busywork as possible.

It's almost as if he never left home.

Or rather it would be, if he didn't have the memories of that other life-the one he's now lost.

* * *

'So. You're back then.'

Joey passes Grandad his tray. 'Yeah. I'm back.'

'Your wife's been hanky-pankying, that's what Billy said.'

'I'd rather not dwell on that at the moment, if that's all the same, Grandad.'

'You might as well. Everything's 'anky panky these days. Might as well get used to it.' He peers down at his dinner. 'And chicken. 'Anky panky and bloody chicken. That's all the world's made up of anymore. I can't remember the last time I 'ad a pork chop.'

Joey doubts Grandad's ability to eat a pork chop, given that he's going to be eighty soon and his teeth aren't what they were. But he doesn't comment on this. Grandad's stomach has saved him a painful conversation.

'I'll put in a good word with Mam about the pork, sunshine,' he smiles, and retreats back into Number Thirty, leaving the old man to complain to the empty street about his meal.

* * *

Nellie opens up the pot. Billy grumbles and groans and wheezes as always, but drops a pound coin into it. Joey has automatically reached for his wallet, his fingers relying on their muscle memory and working towards the notes section, looking for a tenner or maybe even a twenty to contribute.

But he hasn't got anything.

'I'll pay tomorrow.'

Billy, who's been sneaking mouthfuls of goulash, drops his spoon to his bowl with a loud clattering noise. Nellie's agog.

Joey has never, ever- _never_ in all his years- not contributed anything at all.

Never.

He's been hit hard by all this.

The other two are silent, just staring at the near empty pot. Joey sweats. His shirt melts into his chest. Beads of it collect on his forehead. And then, just as he thinks things can't possibly get any more awful, Nellie replaces the lid, folds her hands together.

'Prayers,' she says, and Joey sinks into the little safe pocket of relief, shutting his eyes.

'We thank Thee, O, God for the food on the table, the money in our pockets and the strong, loving family we have. And we ask Thee, Dear Father, to watch over Joey, and protect him through this time of trouble and grief. May he get through this painful divorce, and may his financial crisis come to an end, and most of all, may he find strength and solace in us. The family. Amen.'

'Amen,' says Billy and begins to wolf down his meal.

'Amen,' says Joey, and starts to cry.

* * *

He tries to play nice about the whole thing. If they can come to an agreement, settle things out of court, make a nice little arrangement between themselves, then the actual legal procedure can be a cut and dry case of signing paperwork, and everyone's fine. Well, as fine as they can be, given the circumstances.

'I just want this divorce over with, and quickly,' he tells Roxy amiably, 'without any fuss or fightin' about property and the suchlike. You can keep the house, I'll pay you this much a week- that includes child support for Oscar…' he writes a figure down on a piece of paper, shows her. It's decent, more than most people would pay, and she should be happy with it, he reasons. After all, she's already getting payments from Stan, her first husband, and her new Latin lover's quite well-off- she'll be absolutely raking it in. But if giving in like this means the least arguments, means the smoothest path to a clean break and a sensible relationship for Oscar's sake, he'll gladly pay a lot, even if it might be a bit of a struggle at first. His job is a dead loss, but maybe if he sells off the last of the organic produce that'll tide him over 'til something else comes along.

'And if you don't want me in the house when I visit with Oscar, I can easily take him to the park or my place or somethin' for a few hours a week, stay out of your hair.' He smiles. These are reasonable terms, and all one she should agree to with no fuss. It should be easy. A nice truce.

But one look from Roxy immediately tells him it's not going to be so.

'What d'you mean, visit with Oscar? He's my son, not yours.'

Joey's heart stops. 'Well I just assumed…'

'Why did you assume anythin', Joey? He's my kid, I'm his parent. You're not. You divorce me, you divorce me kid, Joey.'

Joey feels like he's turned to stone, and a ginormous building is crumbling and collapsing around him.

'But I…' What can Joey say to her? 'You know I think o' Oscar as my own! You can't do that!'

'You can't have it both ways, Joey. He's not your kid, you've got no legal right to see him.'

He can't believe she's doing this. Roxy's got a spiteful streak something awful, but _this_ , this is just inhuman. For the first time in his entire life, he feels a shudder of deep disdain for her. His face hardens, his jaw sets. He takes back the paper with the figures on it, tears it in half.

'If that's the way you wanna play it, Roxy, then fine. If you don't wanna play fair, then neither will I. I'm gonna fight to see that boy, because he's my son no matter what you say, and I'm gonna make sure I can hang onto everything else I'm entitled to as well.'

He's not playing nice anymore. Not if she's not going to. He's going to hire a good solicitor first thing, make statements. The bond between him and Oscar is undeniable- there's not a jury in the world who wouldn't grant him at least some visitation, and he's going to push for it with all he's got. And if she's going to be the way she is, he's not going to give her all that money after all, he's going to find out, given that Stan's still supporting her, just how little he can get away with.

Roxy's been unreasonable before, but this time she's gone too far. And he's not going to stand for it.

* * *

The problem with hiring a solicitor is that solicitors are expensive, and Joey's still recovering from the collapse of the organic business. He's not making nearly enough to pay the enormous fees he's being given. In desperation, he sells his half- not for nearly enough as Freddie got for his, but a sizeable sum, once he's haggled with the idiot who takes it, and enough to get him a few more sessions, enough chances to talk over his options, work out his plan of defense. He'll take up with his old sort of work, after all this is over, maybe go back on Social Security as well. But he can't devote time to that just yet, not until all this nasty divorce business is settled.

The solicitor remembers Billy from a few years back, is uncooperative when he first hears the name 'Boswell'. He ups his fee.

Joey turns to the family for help, and each of his parents (and Grandad, who's got a little tucked away for goodness knows what) opens their heart and their wallet, donates what they can spare to the cause.

Roxy refuses to negotiate, refuses even to discuss any sort of visitation at all. The visits to the solicitors continue, and the fees keep on coming.

Joey pawns his gold chains, his Cartier watch, even his wedding ring. His neck and wrist feel strangely light, and he still instinctively reaches up to fiddle with the accessories once in a while, blinking when he realises they're not there anymore. But losing them is worth it if he can get in one or two more sessions before the looming court case. If it comes down to it, he's prepared to sell his _Jag_ , if that's what it takes for him to be able to see Oscar.

* * *

Two weeks 'til the case, and the money's running out. He's tried everything but he wants just one last session, wants to make sure this is in the bag. And he's out of options. He clutches his keys as he writes out an ad to put in the paper, running his thumb over the Jaguar logo. He gently, lovingly caresses the car as he washes it, getting it all spick-and-span for test drives.

He tries not to think about someone else owning it, taking it places, as he sits there on the phone, listening to various offers. He's had a few good ones, a few he wouldn't even consider, and he'll wait 'til he hears everyone's bid to decide.

'Yeah, well, let me think about it,' he says, trying to play the smooth trader, a role he hasn't properly embraced in a few years, 'I've got someone on the other line who's madly interested in the car, you see. Yeah, yeah, I'll call you back. Okay, thanks, sunshine. Ciao.'

Joey makes a note of this latest offer on a pad of paper and shakes his head. It's not nearly enough- if he's going to part with his beloved car, it's got to be for a bit more than that. It's got to be enough to get the best defence set up this city's ever seen, to make sure he'll definitely win the case, before the loss of his wheels is worth it.

'Joey?'

Joey looks up to see Billy standing in the doorway, custard from a profiterole all round his mouth and chocolate on his fingers. Not letting the remains of the cakes from yesterday's tea go to waste, obviously.

'I'm a bit busy at the moment, son. What is it?'

'Can you come into the kitchen for a minute?' There's something a little strange about his younger brother's voice, like he's trying too hard to sound casual. Joey looks from the phone to Billy and back again.

'Okay, but make it quick. I'm expectin' another call about me Jag any minute.'

He gets up and follows Billy into the other room.

He isn't prepared for what he sees.

He's been transported back into the past. Somehow, when he's been wrapped up in his bargaining they've arrived here, crept into the house, and now they're all there, sitting round the table like in the olden days, Jack and Adrian, Aveline with four-inch stick-on nails and five plastic necklaces, Billy. No sign of Freddie, or Nellie, just the other members of his generation, although the pot sits in the centre of the table as if it was a mealtime, the beady little eyes of the porcelain chicken peeping out over its painted beak.

'What's all this?'

'Sit down,' Adrian gestures, and he does, clouded with confusion.

'We know you've been going through…well, what Dad would call a black period,' Adrian goes on, 'you know, all the colour drained away, left with just darkness surrounding you…'

'Yeah, he'd get the point without the poetic metaphors,' Jack butts in. 'Thing is, we all know what it's like to have kids, and we all know how much it'd hurt to never be able to see 'em…'

'Julie doesn't let me see Francesca much,' Billy interrupts, and is glared at.

'We're talkin' about Joey, not about you,' Jack snaps.

'And we all think Roxy's bein' a _cow_ , not lettin' you see little Oscar,' Aveline contributes, practically in tears herself at the thought.

Adrian nods at her, and she lifts the pot, being very careful not to chip her nails against it, and deposits it in front of Joey.

'So we've all chipped in to get you this,' Adrian says. 'Only, er, don't tell Mam about this.'

Joey stares at it, frozen for a moment.

'Well go on,' Jack says. 'Open it.'

He lifts the lid, places it to one side. And Joey is immediately moved to tears by what's inside.

'There's got to be over two thousand pounds in here,' he says softly, skimming through the thick wad of banknotes.

'Yeah. Sold me van,' Jack says.

'And mine,' Billy pipes up.

'I've put in the proceeds from my last poetry anthology,' says Adrian.

'And I got Oswald to have a whip-round down the church,' Aveline smiles.

Joey looks from one to another, astounded and saturated in gratitude. 'You shouldn't have…you can't sell…I can't take this. Honestly, I can't. You can't go makin' sacrifices like that for me…'

Adrian closes Joey's hand around the money. 'We can. And we have.'

'You've lost your job, lost your wife, lost your home, and all your flash gear,' Jack says. 'You deserve to be able to keep one thing. Don't sell your Jag.'

'And anyway,' Billy puts in, 'if you get rid of it, we won't be able to borrow it and feel all sophisticated when we drive around!'

Billy's _actually_ managed to make a joke that works in the current situation without offending. It gets a laugh out of Joey, but still it's too much, it's all too much…

'I might lose the court case. I might never be able to pay you all back…'

'We know that, Joey,' Adrian says, clasping his hand in a manly handshake. 'We know that.'

'But you always helped us out, ever since we were kids,' Jack says, 'and now we're gonna help you out. We're all in this together, you know.'

'We're a family,' says Billy.

'And we love you,' says Aveline.

Joey's choked up, the lump in his throat so big he barely has space for air to go in and out. He's going to cry.

'You're the best brothers and sister,' he manages to splutter, 'anyone could ever wish for.' And then he does.

Aveline gets up, totters around and hugs him from behind. Jack puts one hand on his shoulder, Adrian clasps both his hands. Billy just smiles in a way that appears creepy, but is meant to be caring, and is therefore endearing.

And Joey just loves them all so much.

This is what Roxy doesn't understand. This is what she's never understood, never will. You can't escape a bond like this. Joey will always be a part of them, and they of him. He can't help it. He's a _Boswell_. Theirs is a bond stronger than any ordinary family. It's a _Boswell_ bond. If blood is thicker than water, then _Boswell_ blood is thicker than the most viscous substance around. They'll always be around to look out for one another. _Us and ours_ , just like their family motto says.

He will never feel guilty about standing by them again. He shouldn't have in the first place.

* * *

The horrible thing about having a wife with expensive tastes is that naturally, she's run off with an expensive lover. Alberto, bloody buggery Alberto who he hates so bloody much, is bloody rich. Very, very rich. He's a very successful accountant, apparently, or whatever he does – Joey wasn't listening that closely- and has so much stashed away that he's shelled out a grand old sum on a London lawyer for Roxy. A top-of-his-trade, expensive, sought-after London lawyer. Joey's never sworn so much, either in his head or out loud, as when he finds out this news. He'll never have a chance of winning now- the solicitor he has is good as far as he goes, but Roxy's has walls and walls of qualifications and has only ever lost three cases in his twenty-four year career.

The court case is a disaster- everything Joey's solicitor comes up with, Roxy's seems to have been prepared for well in advance, and he dishes out all sorts of legal maxims and big words the likes of which Joey's sure his lawyer's never even considered. Still, he puts up a good fight, so at least the money is justified, and he does manage to win Joey a few things. Not the one he wanted, though.

He comes out with an order to pay significantly less alimony than he'd planned for, but it's a small blessing when weighed against the judge's other decision. Any visits between Joey and Oscar are a matter for Roxy to decide, her being his biological and legal mother, and Joey being nothing a court will recognise to the boy. Surrogacy is not a sufficient enough case to push for visitation rights, especially as Joey never signed any official papers saying he'd adopted him. He's a stepfather only, and has no claim to Oscar that can be enforced.

The whole family have come along to provide moral support and be there for Joey when he comes out, no matter what the verdict, but he doesn't want to see any of them right now, doesn't want to hear all their _I'm sorry Joey_ -s. It's not that he's not grateful for them for everything they've done, for being there, but no amount of pity in the world will help him.

Plus, he's pretty sure it didn't help matters when Nellie jumped to her feet from the audience and shouted _TART!_ every time Roxy got up to speak.

'I'm never sellin' sandwiches to anyone in that court 'ouse again,' Billy says loudly as they all go down the steps, the rest of the Boswell clan forming a protective cluster around Joey.

Despite the fact that his world has just totally and utterly been blown apart, and he wants to just crawl into a hole and never come out, Joey laughs a little at this. Because the comment is just so utterly _Billy_.

'Thanks, son,' he says, clapping Billy on the back. 'You show 'em.'

* * *

It's hell.

Utter hell.

Not a word from Oscar, and when he tries to go round to his old house, it's as if Roxy's been alerted in advance. They're never in.

Nearly two months, and he hasn't seen hide nor hair of Oscar.

He hates Roxy now.

Absolutely _detests_ her, all his fond memories of them playing in the fields and kissing under trees tainted by this new, complete and utter loathing. He's always told Aveline off for calling Roxy a cow, but the word comes naturally to him now, and he spews it out when he's alone, shouting at the photograph of her he used to keep in his wallet. He wants his lad. And she's keeping him from him, out of pure, unalloyed _spite_.

Joey's tried everything to get one last look at the lad- come to see him during open days at school, only to be turned away, told by the teachers that if he comes back they'll alert the police, because his mother did _not_ give permission for anyone other than herself to collect him. He daren't phone, because he thinks if he hears Roxy's voice he'll do something he regrets.

And so it's come to this. He's desperate. He knows Oscar sometimes walks home this way, he has a small, feeble flicker of a hope he can see him, even just catch a _glimpse_ of him at the very least. He feels in some ways like a stalker, but no, he tells himself, he's not. He just wants to say goodbye. Roxy's robbed him even of that.

He leans against his car, watching, waiting.

And then there he is, messy hair crammed under a cloth cap, surrounded by a group of other boys his age, all sporting matching grey shorts, matching scraped knees. They're laughing and bouncing, miniature shoes clattering on the pavement, making the sort of happy noise only young children can.

Joey's heart twists and knots. A tear pricks and then immediately escapes, and he wipes it away.

He takes a breath and calls.

'Oscar!'

Oscar's lagging behind the rest of the group, pauses, turns. His eyes alight on Joey, and he hesitates, wringing his little hands, conflicting emotions scrolling across his face for a while, before his exuberance wins out and an enormous smile appears. He waves enthusiastically.

Joey feels giddy. His head's spinning so drastically he steadies himself against the side of his Jag as Oscar takes two steps in his direction.

'Eh! Oscar!' one of the other lads calls. 'Don't go down there! Me Mam says you should never talk to strangers!'

'Aw, it's not a stranger!' Oscar calls back, and oh, how Joey's missed that voice, missed that lisp. 'It's my…he used to be my…it's Joey!'

And then he's flown down the path, right into Joey's open arms, and Joey's missed this, has missed him so much that for a moment he can't speak. His throat's gummed up; all he can rasp out is Oscar's name, over and over.

'Joey,' Oscar says in response, small hands clutching at the leather of Joey's jacket.

'Eh! Osc! We're goin' on ahead- we'll meet you up there!' His friends are getting impatient, anxious to move on, to get on with whatever adventure they had in mind.

'Okay!' Oscar calls without looking. His eyes are firmly fixed on Joey, and as Joey bobs down on one knee to be at eye-level with him, he reaches out, puts a hand on his chest.

'Why didn't you come and visit me?' His voice is filled with hurt and want, and it's like an arrow right through Joey's heart.

'I wanted to, son, really I did, but…' he begins, and wonders how he should end the sentence. _Your Mam wouldn't let me_ wouldn't be appropriate- true as it is, he can't indoctrinate him against his mother. That would be cruel, it would be low- right down on Roxy's level.

'I couldn't.'

'Why didn't you phone me up- or write me a letter? I can read good now. _You_ know that.'

'Well, son,' Joey corrects gently. It's a natural move after four years of keeping tabs on him, if not parenting. 'You can read _well_ now.'

'Yeah,' says Oscar. He's looking at his feet now, scuffing the side of his shoe against the pavement. Joey smiles.

'Don't do that, son.'

Oscar meets his eye, and then screws his face up. He's struggling to get something out, and, as Joey watches, his lip trembles before he bursts out with 'why can't you just come back _home_?'

_Oh, don't son. I would if I could- I would've stayed just for your sake._

'You know about me and your Mam, don't you?'

'You got divorced. Yeah, I know about that.' Oscar's gone back to scuffing his shoe. Joey doesn't chide him for it this time.

'But why can't you just get back together? It was good then! I miss you!'

'I miss you too,' Joey whispers, 'so much. But I can't…'

'And I don't like Alberto. He comes around all the time, and he's mean and ugly and he doesn't talk to me like you do…'

It repulses Joey, the idea of Alberto trying to be any kind of father to Oscar. His stomach lurches and he thinks when this is over he'll go have a good vomit down a back-alley.

'And I want you instead, Joey, and then we wouldn't have to move to London, and…'

'Woah, woah, hold on, son! Back up a minute there!' Joey's heart hammers. 'You're movin' to London?'

'Alberto's got a big house there, and we're all going to live in it.' Oscar pauses, makes a clicking noise with his tongue. Something he's copied off Joey. 'I don't want to.'

'I don't blame you,' Joey says. 'I don't want you to either.' He can't believe how calm he is right now, because in spirit he's going around kicking down poles and throttling Roxy and tearing his hair out.

He can't do that in front of Oscar, though. This may well be the last time he ever sees the lad, and he wants Oscar to remember him as a kind and good man, not as the man who started destroying everything he saw out of anger on their last encounter.

Joey takes hold of the boy's shoulders, looks him straight in the eye. 'Oscar, if you're ever in trouble, you call me, okay? When you get to London, write to me with your address, and we can send letters. Remember, you can always count on me, even if you're up there and I'm down here. Okay?'

Oscar nods, looking like he's about to cry. He's not the only one. 'Okay.'

'I love you. You know that, don't you? I always will.'

'Os- _car!_ Hurry up!' the other kids are back, chucking a ball between them and looking impatient. 'We've been waitin' for you for _aaaages!'_

Oscar looks from Joey to his mates, torn.

'Go and have fun,' Joey says, giving him a little nudge. He can't be all possessive about Oscar, not in front of him, anyhow. And it's better if the lad runs off with his friends, goes and plays a ball game somewhere, is happy and free, rather than having a tearful goodbye. Joey doesn't think he can go much longer without crying, and he doesn't want to prolong this, because then Oscar will see and it'll all be so much worse for him.

So he pulls together a grin. 'Go on, don't wanna get your friends all impatient, do you?'

Oscar shakes his head. He turns to go, then turns back, throwing himself into a tight hug with Joey.

'I love you too,' he says and then he turns for a third time and is off up the path, melding into the group of seven-year-olds with ease, all of them just lively blurs as they run off out of sight.

Joey waits until the last little bit of Oscar has disappeared from his view, and then, true to his word, he goes round a corner and throws up.


End file.
